


When You Build Your House, Call Me

by BurningRain



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff, Overdose, Relapse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29650467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningRain/pseuds/BurningRain
Summary: I didn’t realize that I was in love with my best friend until it was too late.
Relationships: Frankie Morales/ OFC
Comments: 17
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

I didn’t realize I was in love with my best friend until it was too late.

I am flying down a dark highway, choking down sobs, when it hits me. Friends don’t fall apart when they learn the other is going to have a baby. Friends don’t shape years of their lives around the deployment schedules of the other. Friends don’t keep shoeboxes of handwritten letters spanning decades. Friends don’t do any of the things that I have done, only lovesick fools do.

The bike has barely come to a complete stop before I am on the shoulder puking my guts out. He had been so excited to tell me, and why wouldn’t he be; he was going to be a father.

My Frankie was going to be a dad. My Frankie. Not my Frankie. Her Frankie.

Of all the reasons I have to hate Jessica, being in love with the soon- to- be father of her child was the least of them. Yet here on my knees on the side of the road, dark and drenched at 3am, it is the straw that broke the camel’s back.

* I was relieved when Frankie had told me the Army was retiring the team. There was a part of him that had never come home after the last tour. The nightmares were worse and he carried a perpetually haunted look wherever he went. For months and months he practically lived on my couch. I figured it was easier than having the retirees in the apartment next to his putting in complaints about the way he screamed in his sleep. There wasn’t anybody out here in the boonies to complain, I certainly wouldn’t. He never had to wait in line to use my washer, my fridge was always full, and the water pressure was great. I felt safer with him here, not that I’d ever admit it, and it was a relief being able to keep an eye on him. Especially in those early days.

I was the one to push him to go to therapy. All the good intentions and unconditional love in the world wasn’t going to be enough to get him through this. He needed professional help. Our compromise was that he wouldn’t go through the VA. There was a practice in the city that had a new patient opening one month out.

He hated it at first. He wanted to quit. I pushed him. I insisted.

He met Jessica four months in, sitting in the lobby. They ditched therapy and went back to his place. The conspiratorial tone in his voice and the joy on his face when he recounted it to me eclipsed the gnawing feeling in my gut.

Something about the way he described her made me uneasy. If I’d been self aware at the time, I might have blamed it on jealousy. Instead, I blamed it on hormones. Aunt Flo is a bitch and who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth when his eyes were wrinkled and his sweet dimple made its first appearance in what felt like a lifetime?

So instead I sat in the couch and listened to him hush about the spontaneous redhead that had spent all evening rocking his world. *  
  


I get back to my feet and shakily kick my Triumph back to life. Frankie had offered to drive me home in the Chevy and I had (maybe too forcefully) declined. There was no way my crumbling facade would have held up in the cab of the truck is watched him rebuild, surrounded by the smell of him as he word vomited all over my broken heart.

The roar of the engine is soothing as I continue cutting through the dark towards home. I think about the first time he’d stumbled through my door high out of his mind.

* He’d been distant, spending more time in her bed than on my couch. I’d stupidly considered it a net positive. She rubbed me the wrong way and I had a sneaking suspicion that she really didn’t care for me, either.

A sickly sense of dread had settled into the pit of my stomach as he DT’d on my couch that weekend. He’d told me everything once he’d sobered up. Frankie had always been the type to bottle things up and then release it all torrentially to the people he trusted. To me.

This was different. I felt less like a best friend and more like a priest taking confession.

He’d had a nightmare at her place one night and she offered him a bump to take the edge off. Coke and then sex.

He said he couldn’t face me fucked up but it was getting harder and harder to stay down.

He had woke up in his bed that night, still high, and realized they weren’t alone. Another man, a dealer named Emerson, had her bent over the dresser. She had spent her rent money on coke again and ended up evicted. She was only staying with him because her family wouldn’t spare a couch. Now there was another man in his space, fucking her in exchange for drugs.

I thought that had to be it. He told me that was it. *  
  


I nearly whiskey throttle as I remember his excuse for going back.

* He’d gone by the apartment to get more of his things. He’d been slowly moving into my guest room, bit by bit, while Jessica wasn’t there. His luck had finally run out. She was “home” and coming down hard. He stayed to take care of her, afraid to leave her alone. My Frankie with a heart of gold. He’d learned all the best tricks from me.

Less than a month later I picked the new lock on his apartment and found him alone on the living room floor. She’d panicked when he started seizing and left.

I was the only one in the room when he woke up and started trying to pull at the IV. It was there under dim fluorescent lighting that I gave him my ultimatum. I never gave him the chance to answer. Maybe if I had known, maybe if I had told him, maybe if he had loved me back he would have chosen differently. But I left him alone in that hospital room the same way she had, only she came back.   
  
I held his hand in the ambulance but she held his hand as he walked out the door, and he only really remembered one of them.

He never called me. Months went by and the man who had been the star my world revolves around was just gone. Evidence of his warmth was left in every corner of my home. The door to the guest room may as well have been nailed shut. Day by day the sadness seeped into my bones like cold. *  
  


His text last night was like being struck by lightening. He wanted to talk, he needed to tell me something.

I almost didn’t recognize him when he slid into the booth across from me. He was nothing short of gaunt but his eyes were clear and shining with tears as he slid the positive test across the table to me.

The floor fell out and my blood rushed loudly in my ears. Frankie, my Frankie, was going to be a dad. But the shadow of a man sitting in front of me right then wasn’t my Frankie and he hadn’t been for months.

I had come to terms with the fact that he might never be my Frankie again. He was her Frankie now and it was time for an ultimatum of my own. Either I make room in my heart for her Frankie, or I walk away and finally grieve my own.

He was two weeks clean. He was getting clean for the last time. Jessica was getting clean, too. They were going to be parents and he wanted me to be part of the baby’s life. He couldn’t imagine being a dad without me by his side.

I don’t realize that I’ve passed my house until I come up to the sign for the next town over; nearly an hour further than I’d intended to go. I glance down at my gas tank and realize that I’m not going to make it. I do some mental math and decide to turn around rather than trying to make it to the gas station in town. I’ll get as far as I can on the bike and push it the rest of the way. That’s what I get for not paying attention.

How long have I been in love with my best friend?

The question rattles around in my head like a Folger’s can full of marbles as I push the Triumph back into the shed. My thighs are chafed in my wet jeans and I can feel blisters rubbing in my boots. I need a shower and a long sleep.

I toss and turn until Frankie’s message tone rings out. He’s going to the book store tomorrow for parenting books and wants me to go. Do I really want to tour one of our favorite spots with his girlfriend while I grapple with being in love so they can prepare for a life he put inside her?

I love him more than I hate myself. I choose. In my own ultimatum I choose loving Jesssica’s Frankie over burying mine.

I send my reply before rummaging around in the closet until I find one of his shirts. It smells like him. It still smells like my Frankie.

I slip it over my head and sniffle my way back between the sheets. This time when the phone rings it’s an old school smiley face.

I feel worse in the morning. I’m bone tired and everything hurts, inside and out. Frankie messages when he’s here and I step out onto the porch to realize he’s down at the end of the drive. I glance at the shed where bare tracks of dirt in the grass reserve his old parking spot.

Shoukders back, I ignore the burning chafe of my thighs under my sundress and avoid puddles down the dirt path to the Chevy idling for me.

Frankie jumps out as I approach and flashes me a smile before opening the door for me.

”No Jessica?” I pause and look up at him. A flicker of something in his eyes precedes his casual shrug and I climb in, suddenly more aware of my modesty than I ever have been with him. Frankie skips around to his side and I can’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. The truck barely shifts as he clambers in and I’m reminded of the way his clothes hang off his thin frame. He meets my eyes and his are just as clear as the night before. He wiggles his eyebrows and started her up.

I missed him. I missed us.

Frankie parks in front of my favorite coffee shop and winks at me. We argue over him paying for our drinks and I relent. His hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it and it takes everything in my being to keep myself from reaching up and tugging at a curl as he smirks his victory.

Back outside he throws a long arm around my shoulder as we walk down the road to our favorite secondhand book store. I wince as I wrap my arm around his waist, missing his softness. He’s chattering on about baby names and nursery themes. He still hasn’t mentioned Jessica but I bite my tongue. He talks about his team as we meander through shelves of books, stopping at the parenting section where he falls silent.

For the first time since he slid his bony ass into the diner booth he looks scared. I nudge him gently with my elbow and give him an encouraging smile. I start pulling familiar titles, making sure I grab a few for Jessica, too. I pass a title on post- partum recovery to Frankie and he pulls me roughly to his chest. He mumbles his thanks into my hair and I rub his back, soothing him as the broken pieces of my heart clink like a wind chime. Frankie pulls back and I yank the bill of his cap down over his eyes, earning a watery chuckle.

”I think this is a decent start, huh?” I watch in amusement as another woman’s Frankie fixes his hat the way mine always had.

”Hmmmm... if you say so.” He plays it off with sarcasm, but doubt wis heavy on his steadily tensing shoulders. I study him in mock suspicion for a moment before whipping the cart around and beelining for the children’s section. I can feel him beaming at me as I pile the cart full of an absolute library. Frankie grabs one or two but mostly watches as I let loose. My Frankie and I had always been big readers and I want to make sure the child of her Frankie has every resource in case they were, too.

A loud gurgling sound from Frankie’s stomach halts me in my tracks. He looks embarrassed.

”Sorry... recovery has weird uh... symptoms.” I smile and shrug. Frankie shrugs sheepishly before turning and power walking to the bathroom. I see my chance and book it to the cash register, the wheels on the cart rattling and screeching the whole way.

I am signing the receipt when Frankie finds me. I thank the cashier and tug at the end of the basket. He looks from the bags back up to me with an odd countenance, but follows me out. Back at the truck he stands dumbly at the tailgate as I lord the bags.

”Hey, dingus, will you hand me those last two?” I call playfully behind me. He tugs on his cap before handing them up where I am tugging the bungee net across the bed to hold them in place. I am already in the cab when he gets back from the cart return.

Frankie climbs into the cab and is sat silently with his hands on the wheel. With his head hung low I can’t see his eyes under the bill of the cap. I sit and wait, knowing what is coming next. His hands tighten on the wheel, knuckles turning white as he draws a deep, shaky breath.

”I lost my license,” his voice is thick.

”I know.” I say quietly.

”They tested and of course I fuckinf failed, and I- I- I-...” He is really shaking now. I reach over and put my hand over one of his, squeezing gently.

”I know.” I say more firmly.

”How?” He chokes.

”Some of your calls still get routed to the landline. I’ve got a machine full of Frankie messages.” My thumb rubs gently over the back of his hand as he fights for composure.

”I’m-“

”Frankie,” He looks up at me and I remind myself that he isn’t my Frankie. “I know.” It’s a gentle reassurance. I’m here. I’ve always been here. I will always be here.

He swallows hard and takes my hand before looking back out the windshield. An all- American dad is walking across the parking lot with a giggling toddler on his shoulders.

”Jessica doesn’t believe in abortion, but she doesn’t want kids. She doesn’t want the party to end.” I can feel something ugly rising in my gut as I listen. “I didn’t know I wanted to be a dad until insane the stick. I was just trying to stop. To make it all stop. I just wanted everything to be okay again.” I realize that he’s been holding everything in since the relapse. “I was going to tell her the same thing you told me in the hospital.” I wince. “But she handed me the test and everything changed. We fight all the time and it can’t be good for the baby but I won’t let her hurt them. Last night she told me they aren’t even mine. She said she let Emerson cum in her because she knew I was going to leave for real this time.” My head falls back against the seat and my eyes close against the anguish on her Frankie’s face. “I don’t care. I don’t care what she did or what she says, that is my child. No matter what anything or anyone says, that was my child the moment I saw the stick and I won’t let her hurt them or send them away. I am going to be a father.”

His voice breaks and I lace my fingers with his, tugging gently.

”Frankie, everything you’ve done since you found out has been the actions of a father. You are a father, a damn good father, and that child is so lucky to have you fighting for them. I see you. I see you fighting and I am so damn proud of you.” His resolve is faltering and I hesitate knowing that if he starts crying I’m done for. My voice falls to a whisper and I see tears tracking down his face. “You aren’t alone, Frankie. You have never been alone. You will never be alone.” A broken sob tears from his throat and he falls into me.

Frankie is gasping and whimpering into the crook of my neck. I pull his hat off and lay it on the dashboard so I can card my fingers through his hair. The wind chime that is my shattered heart clamors in the hurricane winds of his anguish. I hold him as tight as I can and curse myself inwardly. Of course I love him. I have always loved him.

The drive back to my house is comfortably quiet, both of us humming along to the radio until he stops again at the end of my drive.

”Your spot is still open, you know. You could pull up.” This time I see the guilt and sadness on his face for what it is.

”Not yet.” He smiles at me and that shadow lingers. I grab his cap off the dash and fix it to his head before flicking my finger down the bridge of his nose.

”It will always be there, whenever you are ready.” Frankie pulls me in and tucks me under his chin. It isn’t soft and warm like it used to be, but it is still safe. It is still home. I’m so close to falling apart, I really can’t take much more.

”Thank you, Cariño.” He whispers and I squeeze him tight. I pull back and poke his cheek until the mirth of his smile forms his dimple around it.

”Text me if you need anything. It doesn’t matter what time it is.” He nods and there’s an unspoken contract rewritten. He tuts me as I pull at the lock before hopping out and opening my door, ever the gentlemen. He hugs me one more time and I poke him in the ribs before ducking out of his reach and starting the trek up the drive to my house.   
  


Frankie, not my Frankie, watches me until I wave from my open front door.

I look around my house and see reminders of my Frankie everywhere. He isn’t my Frankie anymore but, I realize, he isn’t her Frankie, either. If I can’t like her, then I will compromise; OUR Frankie.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the coming weeks Frankie and I fell into a familiar rhythm over text. His new job at the custom furniture shop in town was going well and he seemed excited to get to work with his hands. It would never be as good as flying but it was honest, tangible work that he could feel proud of. I certainly was proud. Things hadn’t got any easier between he and Jessica, in fact their amicable partnership seemed to be devolving faster than Frankie could catch up.

We’d been planning to meet up again soon to hang out again in person, but with both of us so busy it had become nearly impossible to find time. The little he had to spare was justifiably spent trying to bail out the deflating raft of their relationship. Jessica was still clean. Frankie insisted that they test weekly to keep one another honest. I knew he was terrified that she would relapse and hurt the baby. It kept him up at night more than the nightmares ever had. The incredible paternal attachment he had to them made my heart ache and swell.

Every discussion he’d tried to have with Jessica over baby names had ended in fights and I felt like shit getting to enjoy those dreamy late night phone calls with Frankie about them when their own mother couldn’t. Somewhere in the cracks between Frankie’s desperate fear and my own venomous resentment I’d found a seedling of empathy for Jessica.

Here she was stuck battling addiction and the demons that had left her vulnerable to it on top of a pregnancy she didn’t want but couldn’t bring herself to end. To be so physically, mentally, and emotionally sick in rotating bouts while caught between her addiction and her faith with little to no support outside of Frankie... how could I hate her? Even after everything she was just another broken thing; like my Frankie, our Frankie, and like me.

They’d had their first sonogram today and I was wishing in every star that everything was okay. The appointment was scheduled for 4pm and by 6pm with no word I was beginning to worry. Jessica had put off going for as long as possible. I suspected that she may have been struggling to accept it as reality and seeing them on the screen would be the kind of cutting truth that addicts typically avoid at all costs. It was apparently becoming impossible to hide the bump on her tiny frame, according to Frankie who has been fighting the urge to touch it. I couldn’t begin to understand what Jessica was going through but I also hated the idea of our Frankie not getting to experience little things like that. Both of them deserved better and I tried not to dwell on the unfairness of it all.

Frankie’s ringtone called to me and I answered at the first few notes. He sounded breathless.

”Hey...” I answered timidly.

”Hey, can I come over?” It came out in a rush, slightly lost to the wind whipping past the open window of his truck. I gently chided him for talking and driving but welcomed him over. I’d barely grabbed a pitcher of sweet tea and a couple of glasses before the Chevy was sliding to a stop at the end of the driveway. My Frankie jumped out but hesitated by the hood.

“Are you going to come sit with me or should I go grab a couple of cans and some string?” I heard him huff a laugh before dropping his head and walking up. He was filling out again, slowly but surely. The drawn and sunken look of a sickly man was giving way to the slightly puffiness of an exhausted father- to- be.

I stood as he approached to hand him his glass but he completely ignored it, instead pulling me in for a bone crushing hug. He was so warm and still smelled like sawdust and sweat from work. I reached behind him and sat the glass down on the wooden ledge before squeezing him back. The evening shadows were getting long and the cicadas had started screaming but we just stood there for a while holding each other. I could have stayed like that forever but about a million burning unanswered questions were swimming in the humid air around us. I sneakily grabbed an ice cube from my glass and dropped it down the back of his shirt, causing him to yelp and jump around until it dropped out.

in the commotion he knocked his glass off the ledge and down into the weeds below. He looked down at the shattered mess and then back up at me with those soulful brown eyes. I cut him off before he could apologize.

”Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Señor Scratch won’t mind... too much.” I wiggled my eyes ominously. Frankie lost it, leaning on the list and clutching his sides with his head thrown back howling with laughter.   
  


Señor Scratch was the name we’d given the ornery old opossum who lived under the pitch when we were kids. In reality, there had almost certainly been several Señor Scratches over the decades, but the terrifying mythos surrounding the original was integral to so many of our childhood adventures.

After a moment he collapsed into the porch swing next to me with a sigh, very nearly toppling the pitcher as well, eating another wave of laughter from both of us. There was a stretch of comfortable silence as we starred out over the fields across the street. The sun was blazing it’s way towards the horizon in a technicolor sea of clouds. I kicked his boot with my flipflop and he looked over at me.

”So...” I pressed. The grin that split his face warmed me from the inside. He was so beautiful silhouetted by the sunset and I couldn’t help but pull my phone out the way I had my old Polaroid a million times before to immortalize my Frankie, no longer my Frankie. The thought sobers me as he starts in.

”It was so amazing. She’s farther along than she thought- 16 weeks- that means the baby is the size of an avocado. I have an avocado! Their heartbeat was so strong and we could even see them on the screen! Look!” Frankie gingerly pulls a photograph out of his pocket and extends it to me. I hesitate and reach for it with a shaky hand, taking it from him as carefully as he’d offered it. There, in black and white, was not- my- Frankie’s baby. A limo was growing in my throat and my eyes were swimming with hearts that started falling without my permission as I run my fingertips over the tiny gray blip. Frankie reaches out and wipes one away with concern.

”What, like you didn’t cry?!” I rolled my eyes at him but the thought has them falling faster.

”Not really.” It was barely above a whisper. I raised an eyebrow at him and wiped at my face, waiting. “I didn’t want to upset Jessica. She was already having a hard time.” He took a deep breath and looked back over the field.

”Is she okay? Does she need anything? Can I help?” Frankie shakes his head. I offer the photo back and he pushed it back into my hand.

”It’s yours. Jessica didn’t want a copy and I was going to ask for another copy for you, anyways.” He was quiet for a beat before he continued. “She didn’t even look. Our baby was right there, RIGHT THERE, and she wouldn’t even look. It was like pulling teeth to even get her to go. I know it’s hard. I know she’s unhappy, but this was her choice. She chose. She doesn’t get to hate the baby for her choices.” His voice was low but the tendons in his neck were prominent with the strain of his emotions. “She wanted me away from her when we got back to the apartment. I didn’t know where else to go.”

”You are always welcome here, Frankie. You don’t need a reason.”

”I know.” His mumble is obscured by the way he rubs his face with his hands. I feel him look over at me but I am preoccupied with his child. He leans into me, his head on my shoulder, and looks with me. I run my hand up and down his back as we sit together, Frankie rocking us slowly with his boots on the floorboards.

”When do y’all find out the gender?” He beams up at me with another million watt smile.

”We go back in a couple of weeks.” His eyes darken. “If I can get her to go.” I hum in agreement.

”You are very persuasive. Remember Remy and the junkyard dogs?” Frankie barks a laugh.

”Remy was an idiot.” I chuckle and nod.

”Have you told the guys, yet? I bet those Miller boys are going to spoil this kid rotten!”

”They’ll have to get in line behind you and your children’s library!” I laugh and it jostles him against my chest. “No, I haven’t told them. I wanted things to get better, first.” I tug on his earlobe.

”Things will get better, Frankie. Thunder only happens when it’s raining.” He sat bolt upright in mock outrage, clutching non existent pearls.

”How dare you use Stevie against me!” I rolled my eyes and giggled.

”You can’t deny the Nicks wisdom! You’re going to get through this!” He paused and picked at a string on my jeans.

”We are gonna get through this?” His eyes met mine and those pieces of my heart clanged together.

”I have always been here, Frankie, I never left. I’ve just been waiting for you to find your way back. I’ll always be here.” Frankie took a shuddering breath and nodded.

”When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know.”

”Damn straight, Frankie. You’ll know.” Frankie grinned and took a big swig from my glass.

“I need to go back and make sure she eats and takes those prenatals.”

”I’ll walk you down, just in case Señor Scratch wants revenge.” We kick a clump of dirt back and forth down the drive. I pull him in for a hug when we get to the truck. “Thank you for this. I can’t wait to meet them.” I gesture with the photo still clutched in my hand.

”I can’t wait to tell them about your grandpa. They’re going to love you so much.” I refuse to get emotional again so I tug the bill of his cap down and push him gently towards the driver door.

”Text me when you get home.”

”Promise!” Frankie waits until I’m back on the porch swing before he pulls off.

**********************************  
  


I’m already down to just his t- shirt and bout to climb into bed when his ringtone cuts through the night.   
  


“She’s gone. Please. I need you. Please help me. She’s just gone and I don’t know what to do, please. Please.”


	3. Chapter 3

I grabbed the nearest piece of denim and a bra without bothering to sniff test either. Bikes and booty shorts don't particularly mix but the only thoughts in my mind as I tore out the front door towards the shed were how grateful I was to have had the forethought to gas up and the broken sound of my Frankie's voice on the other end of the phone. Everybody in Texas drives fast, but the rubber I burned that night I could have made me an honorary Earnhardt. I almost laid the Bonneville down pulling into the complex and then sprinted up the stairs two at a time. I rounded the corner at a breakneck pace and barreled into Frankie who had been running down to meet me. He caught me with shaking hands before I could crash backwards onto my ass. In fact, his whole body was trembling so hard that I thought his bones might start tumbling out onto the concrete for me to scramble after like a game of pick up sticks. I got my bearings and pulled him into myself in an attempt to hold him together.

"Gone..." He gasped into my shoulder and i squeezed a little tighter. We waited on the police outside for what felt like hours but was only really 45 minutes. I stayed close while Frankie spoke to the smarmy uniform with the ginger pornstache, one hand on the small of his back to ground him. I vaguely remembered the cop from high school but doubted Frankie noticed the flicker of familiarity in his beady eyes or the way the 3rd string JV halfback spat his name like a hate crime. I noticed. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes to everything but Frankie's voice as he recounted the last 24 hours. I felt him tense under my hand as he responded to questions about her history of drug use and something more akin to as accusation about his sobriety.

"That's it?!" Frankie's voice was sharp and loud, causing my eyes to fly open and my hand to grab a fistful of his shirt. 

"A grown woman leaving her addict baby daddy is not an emergency. If she hasn't returned or communicated in 48 hours, you can come down to the station and file a missing persons. Okay, amigo?" The condescension dripping from his lips sent a wave of white- hot rage crashing over me. Frankie was wound tight as a drum, knuckles pale where he gripped the railing. I stepped between them, slapping the sonogram photo from my pocket to Frankie's chest before turning to address the hillbilly with the badge.

"Thank you for your time, Bean Dip, you can expect an update when we have one." The self satisfied smirk dropped as we made eye contact for the first time. He shoved his pen and notebook back into his breast pocket and shouldered past me down the stairs. I took a deep breath before turning to face Frankie. His eyes were still blown with anger but the edges has softened. He opened his mouth to speak and I shook my head sharply, taking the sonogram back from him and slipping it back into the pocket of my shorts. "We need to call them."

Frankie wasn't good at asking for help, something that had earned his team countless hours of consequential PT during basic. The trust they'd built over the decades amounted to an intimacy I would never truly understand. Even after everything they'd been through together, Frankie had faltered. He didn't call for backup when my reinforcement hadn't been enough and I wasn't about to let him make that mistake again; not with stakes like these. The life of his child was more fragile than his ego.

The Miller brothers showed up first, jumping out of Benny's car and crossing the yard to where Frankie leaned on the banister of my front porch. They passed him back and forth in the most aggressive display of affection I'd ever seen. Will nodded in greeting to me and I shot back a solemn wink. Benny was less reserved; walking over to wrap me in a far gentler hug. Will kept his arm tightly around Frankie's shoulders, offering quiet promises and reaffirmations that I was far too scared to speak into existence myself. Frankie was the pragmatist, ever an anchor for my own head in the clouds. Whatever shrewd calculations he was making amidst the chaos brewing in his mind paled in the shadow of the graphic nature of my nightmarish worst case scenarios. My arm was still around sweet Benny's waist as I shuffled across the porch to rest my hand lightly on Frankie's lower back as I had back at his place. I relaxed a little when I felt him lean into my touch. We passed sighs and sniffles back and forth in the silence that stretched between us as we watched over the fields for the next set of headlights.

The F150 parked between Frankie's K20 and Benn'y ridiculous PT Cruiser was polished past the point of vanity and bordering on compulsive. I felt my skin crawl as the engine died and the driver door swung open to reveal Frankie's former squad leader. Frankie's self loathing went up his nose, Tom's festered inside of himself and landed like a virus on everyone within sneezing range. Tom was the kind of man whose hands were better suited to holding a rifle than a child. He was everything my Frankie had feared becoming during his active status and the very antithesis of who he actually was at his core. Tom simultaneously hated himself and still managed to look down at everyone else. He may be their commanding officer but he wasn't mine and I would be six feet under before i let a failed real estate agent talk to me the way he did his silver tiered MLM ex wife. I had long suspected that this mediocre cheesecloth full of expired mayonnaise needed a reminder that some women hit back, but I'd never brought it up with Frankie. The only thing keeping me from dragging his ass off my property by his ear was the knowledge that the baby's life was on the line and the clock was ticking.

"Just got off the phone with Pope. Filled him in. His flight lands at 0400. I told him one of us will be there to pick him up at DFW." Tom traipsed up the steps of my porch and embraced each of the boys in turn before turning to me. "So, do you have any beer?'

It wasn't until everyone was seated in my livingroom that it fully dawned on me that the last time Frankie had been in my home he'd been trying to leave Jessica behind. Here we were almost a year later trying desperately to find her. Tom was manspreading in my grandfather's recliner, the Millers sat on each end of the couch Frankie used to call his bed, and the man himself was perched on the edge of my favorite reading chair. I walked over and gently took the label he'd peeled of his beer, covering his fidgety hands with one of mine. He looked up at me with those big doe eyes, lost and scared. I gave his hand a gentle squeeze and spoke as though we were the only two in the room.

"Start from the beginning. They wouldn't be here if they didn't love you." He swallowed thickly and nodded, adjusting his cap. I left the room to dispose of the watery wrapper and returned to lean against a bookshelf on the wall.

"It started as an excuse to blow off therapy..." He took it slow, only stopping for the occasional pull of his chapped lips on the mouth of the bottle. He kept his eyes on the burnt section of flooring where we had set the hardwood on fire while trying to light a handmade bong as teenagers. My eyes moved around the room, taking in the expressions of his brothers. The Miller boys were lost in Frankie's story. Will reached up occasionally to scrub his face with his hands and Benny was worrying at the hem of his jacket with his fingers. I looked over to Tom and met his steely gaze. I squared my shoulders and maintained eye contact, the words of my grandfather warning me to never turn my back on a predatory animal now at the forefront of my mind. i held his stare as Frankie wrapped up his story. Barely a breath passed before Tom spoke.

"And where do YOU fit into this, sweetheart?" I said nothing. My own guilt in the self destruction of the love of my life notwithstanding, I didn't owe this guest in my home a pot to piss in, much less an explanation.

"Redfly..." Will's voice came as a warning, cutting through the tension that threatened to suffocate all of us.

"No, no, I want to know." Will sighed and looked to his brother as Tom's voice rose in volume and pitch. "I want to know what the girl next door was doing while Fish was putting his retirement up his nose." Tom stood and took a step towards me, prompting Will and Ben to put themselves between us. Benny's broad chest obscured Tom as Will put his up in front of him, trying to deescalate the situation.

"I was here, Tom, HERE. I was here when the hell you asked him to follow you into followed him home. I was here when he was puking his guts up through withdrawals. I was here trying to help him put his life back together. Where was the army, Tom? Where were you?!" Benny spoke low, trying to shush me before I made things worse, but I was having none of it. They hadn't been here, I had. Every nightmare, every flashback, every stretch of time that my Frankie sat staring into nothingness and completely unresponsive to my touch. It was me, not them.

"So what, Frankie trades you in for a newer model and you say to hell with it?! Damn, if I'd known that's all it would take, I'd have set him up with some other frigid slut years ago and saved us all the trouble!" I didn't see what happened next, Benny's firm grip on my shoulders keeping me from witnessing the chaos about to tear apart my livingroom. Tom's vicious laughter was cut short with a sickening crunch and then there was the crash of furniture. Benny spun around, arms back shielding me from the ruckus. At this new angle I could see the tangle of limbs as Frankie brought his fists down on Tom twice more before Will and Benny stepped in. Both my reading chair and my grandfather's armchair were done fore, but the mess of furniture across the room was in better shape than Tom'e face.

Benny had Frankie in a hold with his arms behind his head as Will helped Tom to his feet, still using his own body as a buffer. It was silent for a minute, save for ragged breathing and the sputtering of a broken nose. Benny released Frankie after a beat but kept a hand on his shoulder. I was frozen in place; stunned by the cruelty of Tom's words and the explosive violence from my typically passive Frankie. Before I'd processed his movement, Will was in front of me, pressing the keys to Frankie's truck into my palm.

"Why don't you grab Pope and we'll get this cleaned up?" His voice was firm and gentle, eyes searching mine for a response. I looked over at Frankie who ran a hand through his curls and nodded in agreement. Suddenly a stranger in my own home, I afforded Will a tight smile as i took the keys. I shuffled quickly to the door but was stopped by a hand in the crook of my elbow. I looked down at bloody knuckles and back up to bottomless, soulful eyes looking deeply into mine. A curt nod later and I was running across the yard to the solace of Frankie's truck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and smut are coming, I promise. I know it's been dark and I am really sorry.

The dark and seemingly endless expanse of I- 35 was a needed reprieve from the days doldrums. Once the shock of the confrontation had worn off, images of Frankie straddling Tom and the lithe power of his strikes started creeping in from the periphery. I felt like a creep getting hot and bothered over the image of my best friend's body being used as a weapon with the kind of fluidity that only comes from experience, but it was a welcome distraction from spinning my tires worrying about his child. The idea of him defending my honor was insidious, intruding on my better sense of rationality like an itch. He was already wound up, hardly more than a shaken beer. It wasn't about me or about Tom, it was about Frankie and the dogpile of panic and craving that laced his every conscious second. I was selfish for entertaining these thoughts, but that self awareness wasn't enough to stop the replay of the way his body had moved over Tom's. He was still regaining the mass that the addiction had sapped away from him, but even with diminished physicality his body was beautiful. How had I never noticed the way the muscles in his back rippled under that grey t-shirt or the bunching knots of muscle that corded down his arms? He was so fast and so quiet, dominant in a way I'd never experienced from him before. Knowing he was a trained killer was different from seeing that muscle memory snap into action. The way his eyes had bored into mine before I left like he was afraid that I was afraid... 

I sucked in a deep breath and cranked the window down. I needed to keep my head on straight. I needed to stop thinking about touching myself to the memory of his primal aggression. Fuck.

Once parked under the blinding fluorescent lights in the drop off lane at DFW, I started feeling around for my phone and realized I'd left it on the counter in my rush out of the house. Without any way of contacting Santiago, I went old school. I pulled the neon orange flier that had been flapping away under the wiper on the way out here into the car and used the ballpoint pen tucked up in Frankie's visor to scribble POPE in obnoxiously large block letters. I got out and leaned against the bed of the truck, makeshift sign clutched between sweaty fingers. I knew Santi and Santi knew me better than the Miller boys by leagues. The fraternal love all five of them shared made them inextricable from one another, but Santi and Frankie understood one another as only the children of immigrants could. It wasn't a bond you could form through anything but shared trauma. You couldn't know what you didn't know. Santi also happened to be my favorite, but the others didn't need to hear that.

The relief that washed over me when I saw his boyish grin was palpable. I took a few long strides to meet him and he wrapped me in a bone crushing hug, one arm around my waist and the other cradling the back of my head as I buried my face in his neck. Tears stung in my eyes as the comfort of him enveloped me and I swallowed hard to keep them at bay. I pulled back and tried to take his duffle bag from him but he tossed it behind me into the bed unceremoniously before cupping my cheeks in his calloused palms to study my face like he was reading a map. My hands held his wrists as his thumbs came up to swipe at the dark circles under my eyes and caused a few pesky tears to fall without permission. Santi's thick eyebrows knitted and his mouth set into a hard line as he wiped gently at the offending droplets. I gripped his wrists a little tighter and crossed my eyes to lighten the mood, earning an amused huff before he wrapped me back up into another warm hug. He swayed back and forth for a moment before ruffling my hair.

"I'll drive, you spill. Sound good, Dulzura?" I nodded and watched as he stepped around to the driver's side in his trademark Santiago swagger. Having Santi here took a trillion pounds off my shoulders and, for the first time since watching helplessly as Frankie thrashed and screamed on my couch in his sleep, I had hope. We weren't on the road five minutes before I was word vomiting in a very Frankie way. I spared no detail as I explained how fractured he'd been when he came home to the devastation the coke had wrought on his body and our relationship. Before I realized what I was doing, I was confessing my love for Frankie as tears poured hot and fast down my face. We came to a stop at a busy intersection, the day's first light was casting the sky in gentle pastels and Santi was staring in adoration at the sonogram photo. I felt hollow without the impossible internal pressure that I'd been nurturing for what felt like a lifetime. Santiago looked over at me and shook his head before dragging me across the bench seat by my belt loop until i was nestled up under his arm. He held me tight as he drove, leaning his head over on top of mine once we were back on open road. His voice was a balm when he spoke, the soothing timbre lulling me into complacency with his reassurance. 

"Pobrecita," He sighed, rubbing a small circle on my side with his thumb. "you've done so good. You have. I know you think you've failed him, but i promise you that you're the only thing holding him together. Don't give another thought to what Redfly said. He's a miserable cunt. He will never understand what you and Frankie have because he isn't capable of it. I do wish I had been there to see Frankie pop his mouth. That has been a long time coming." We both chuckled lightly and I felt myself relaxing into his side.

"You still haven't said anything about... y'know..." I trailed off, suddenly insecure.

"About you being in love?" I nodded. "That is the least surprising of tonight's revelations. In fact the only thing I'm remotely surprised about there is that you have finally admitted it." Santi laughed at the look on my face.

"You knew?!"

"Everyone knew! Everyone except Fish. I've been wishing on dandelions for years hoping y'all would sack up and knock boots." I elbowed him hard and laughed when he swerved slightly from the sharp jab to his kidney. Red was creeping up my cheeks and I felt like a schoolgirl, so i changed the subject.

"He's going to be such a good father, Santi." My voice was soft as i studied the photo for the millionth time in the last 12 hours. Santiago grimaced.

"He will. We are going to find them. Everything is going to be okay. The baby is going to be okay. Hell, even this Jessica is going to be okay. We will get her help and then we will send her on her way." The way he said the last part made me uneasy but I let it go. I didn't have the emotional capacity to think that far into her future beyond the health and safety of her and the child. "He really is so lucky to have you. I don't know anyone else who would have gone to the lengths you go to for him at a moment's notice. The way you always have, not just since he came home."

"He needs more than I can give him." It was barely more than a whisper, but Santiago caught it.

"That is a testament to his pain, not to the strength of your love. You need to tell him. I know it's terrifying but he needs to know. As soon as the woman is safe and we have some assurance of the child's security, you have to tell him. Both of you deserve that out in the open." Santi was almost stern as he spoke, which perplexed me.

"How could I possibly put that on him when he's already dealing with so much? How could I look him in the eye as he worries over the safety of his lover and child and then tell him I love him. That's cruel. i can't, I won't. do that to him. I am not going to ruin the most stable relationship in his life with my feelings." I nearly spat the second part, eliciting a bemused look from Santiago.

"Please," His voice was so, so soft. "tell him. You will know when the timing is right. It's terrifying, but he needs you to tell him." It was quiet for a moment, tears burning down the red and raw spots on my cheeks.

"You ever been in love, Santi?" He was so warm but I found myself wishing it was Frankie's arm around me, his scent flooding my senses, his voice soothing my aching heart. After a long pause he answered.

"Yeah, once. It sucked. No thanks." We both laughed at that. It wasn't long after that we pulled back into my yard. The guys filed out of the house as we parked. Benny was the first one down the steps and nearly tackled Santiago as he barreled into him for a long hug. Santi clapped him on the back and grabbed at Frankie who made eye contact with me over Santi's shoulder as they embraced. I broke eye contact and climbed into the bed of the truck to retrieve the duffel bag before jumping back down with it slung over my shoulder. Pope looked over his shoulder at me as he dragged Frankie up towards the house and I ignored the hand that reached for his bag. There wasn't much I could do to help anyone right now, at least I could do this. Up the steps Will hugged on Santiago before walking around and placing a hand on my shoulder as Tom greeted them at the door. Will watched as the others went inside, nodding to his brother before turning to me. I let the duffel bag fall from my shoulder to my side and set my hand over his wrist where his hand lightly gripped my shoulder.

"Hey, you alright?" Will's question caught me by surprise. All I could do was nod casually, not at all prepared with a response. Will looked skeptical but nodded. I was slightly shocked when he tugged me gently in for a hug, giving me ample time and space to resist. As much as I adored Will, he had never been particularly affectionate with me. He was as reserved as Benny was charismatic, a dichotomy I had great appreciation for. Like his brother, he gave amazing hugs. My forehead was pressed to his sternum when he next spoke so that I felt it as much as heard it. "Redfly is an ass. He was wrong. It wasn't true and he had no business talking to you like that. We all know what you've done for Fish. Most importantly, Fish knows. It isn't your fault, doll." I drew in a ragged breath and leaned back to give him a playfully angry look, needing to break the tension I was too exhausted to deal with.

"Sorry, William, my lad, Santi maxed out my tear reserves. Better luck next time." Will laughed and gave me another, more playful hug before leading me up the steps to my house with his arm around my shoulder. Once inside, I threw Santi's bag on the counter and grabbed my phone before meeting the others in the livingroom. The disaster was cleared up, the only remaining evidence was a deep gauge in the hardwood where the recliner had dug into the floor under the combined weight of scuffling men. Benny slung his arm casually over my shoulder as we leaned back against the wall and gave my temple an obnoxiously loud smooch, causing me to giggle and poke at his ribs. My phone was nearly dead and there were several dozen missed calls and texts from Frankie, Will, and Benny asking if I had picked up Santiago. My stomach sank in guilt at the realization that they had worried. Will came to stand on my other side and I wondered briefly how many of the women who frequented Benny's fights had fantasized about being sandwiched between two men I couldn't feel less personally inclined to crawl into bed with. Except maybe if they were Tom, who sat in a lawn chair near the window, sulking. Frankie and Santi were sat on the couch together, catching up in Spanish. Their voices were low and I only caught bits and pieces, but I was content to sit in the safety of the broken menagerie as we planned what the next move was. 

As petulant as Tom was being, I was grateful he had stuck around. Whatever was said between the men in my absence had to have stung worse the the broken nose, but he was here and that was another resource to finding Jessica. Tom's rank and ability to shmooze got us into the shadier spaces between the black and white lines of the legal system. Benny's ring time had given Will access to all manner of people who habitually attended the fights and his deceptively buttoned down appearance gave us access to people Tom couldn't convince. Santi was the key. A chameleon in his own right, the man may have been Oscar worthy in another life. They were making calls, drawing on my windows in expo markers, having clipped exchanges between resources using a language they'd developed over years and years of whispered intel over radios and under the cover of shadow. There wasn't much for me to do besides twiddle my thumbs and try to anticipate when they might need something... anything.

Frankie had been absent from the room for several minutes when I began to worry about him. We hadn't spoken since I returned and i wondered if he was angry with me for biting back at his commanding officer. I found him in the bathroom with the first aid kit, trying to clean his knuckles. His head shot up when i knocked softly on the doorframe.

"I didn't mean to scare you. Do you want some help?" I kept my voice low, noting the deep, dark circles under his eyes. He looked down at his hands before sighing and nodding. I moved slowly to sit on the edge of the bathtub and reached for his hands, allowing him to reach the rest of the way in case he changed his mind. His hands were swollen so badly that I could barely see the boney protrusions on his right hand. Almost all of them had split and were crusted with blood. I reached over to start some warm water and froze at the sight of the baggie on the counter. Frankie's hands grabbed mine and I dragged my gaze from the coke to his face, mouth agape.

"I didn't, I swear. I found it at the apartment when we went by earlier to look for any sign of her. I thought about it, but I didn't. I promise, please believe me. Please. I was about to flush it. I promise, I promise." His voice was traveling up an octave with every breath so I cupped his cheek to sooth him.

"I believe you, Frankie, I do. It's okay. I trust you. It just took me by surprise is all. I trust you." He nodded and leaned into my hand. I brushed his hair out of his face and inspected the bruise on his cheekbone, courtesy of Tom. He looked so tired and so keyed up. With the water warm, I soaked and wrung out a handtowel and began sponging gently at his hands to remove the crusted blood from around the scabbing splits. "Thank you for letting me help you." I murmured, not wanting my voice to echo off the tile where the men outside might hear.

"You always help me, even when I don't deserve it." His voice was also low. I stopped what I was doing to look at him, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

"There hasn't been a single time that you weren't deserving of help, much less my help. I told you that you aren't alone and I meant it, Francisco." His eyes shot up at the use of his full name. Only his mom had ever called him that and he knew that I knew that. His breathing hitched slightly and I continued, voice still low. "You have no idea how important you are to me. As long as I breathe, you will never have to do anything alone. Those men out there, your brothers, would die for you. They would kill for you. They would kill or be killed for your baby. Nothing you do can change that. We aren't going anywhere and you absolutely deserve that." I wasn't sure if the moisture in his eye was from my words or from the sting of the towel on his hands.

"I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't come back. I'm sorry I scared you. He started saying those things to you and I just lost it. I'm sorry I broke your stuff, I can make you new stuff at work. It wont be the same... what?" I stared incredulously at him.

"You didn't scare me, Frankie. I mean maybe a little, but I'm not upset about the chairs. Those are just things. I'm just worried about you. You are already under so much stress. you didn't need me mouthing off at Tom on top of it." I rinsed the rag in the sink and reached for the peroxide.

"He was wrong. About all of it. He was wrong and I should have said something so you didn't have to. I'm sorry. You always know the right things to say and you are always right here with me but when you needed me I wasn't there. I'm so sorry." He reached up and brushed his fingertips under my eyelids where the skin was raw from crying. "Are you alright?" It was barely more than a whisper and i wondered when he'd leaned in so close.

"I'm okay, Francisco." He shivered at the use of his name. "Just let me help, please. I need to help." He nodded and let me guide his hands over the bathtub so I could flush his wounds with peroxide. He hissed and tensed as the cold liquid burned his knuckles and I shushed him on instinct, rubbing his back in soothing circles as we watched the foam dripping away before I poured another rinse. We sat in comfortable silence as his hands air dried and I prepped some ointment and gauze. "I'm proud of you." His drooping eyes shot open and focused on me.

"Hm?" He was so tired and I knew it was going to be a battle to convince him to sleep.

"You had it right under your nose and you didn't do it. I can't imagine how hard that was but I see it. I see you. I am so proud." His bottom lip trembled and he looked away.

"The baby..." His voice cracked and the first tears spilled over. "They need a clean parent. I know J- Jessica she's using. That wouldn't have been in her nightstand if she wasn't. I can't protect them when they're still with her, but I can be ready to protect them when they aren't." He gasped a breath and steadied himself. "And I didn't want to disappoint you. I know I hurt you when I started using and I threw everything you did for me in the trash when i went back. I couldn't do that to you again.' He was shaking again and I was hanging on by a thread with my composure.

"I am not disappointed in you. You were sick. It's a sickness and I know you are fighting so hard." I brushed his hair away from his forehead and stroked the tears from his cheeks. "I was always here for you, I just couldn't be there. Not with her. You needed to make your choice and I needed to respect it. I was always with you." He nodded and brought his hands to my hips before leaning his head on my shoulder and letting out a muffled sob. I ran my hands through his hair and shushed him gently. "Hey..." He sat up and I poked his dimple with my finger until he smiled around it. "We are going to get through this and you are going to be an amazing father. Whatever happens with Jessica, you are already doing everything right as a dad." I pulled his hands from my hips and gently applied ointment before wrapping them. I tried to ignore the fire inside me as i held his massive hands between my own. I had seen firsthand the violence they could enact but I couldn't help imagining how good they would feel on my body.

"Where do you go when you make that face?" He asked and I snapped out of my thoughts, face turning red.

"A galaxy far, far away." Frankie laughed. "This is a good look, by the way. You should grow it out, it is very DILF." I expected him to roll his eyes but he seemed to consider it.

"You really think so?" He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. I hummed my affirmation and stroked the back of my hand down the length of his jaw, earning a matching hum from Frankie. I chuckled and took his freshly bandaged hands in mine, placing cautious kisses to the back of each one.

"Alright, all better." I smiled playfully and ruffled his hair before packing up the first aid kit. Frankie stood and wrapped his arms around me from behind. We stared at one another in the mirror until Will's voice cut the moment.

"Hey, we might have found something!"


End file.
